Castaway
by HDSweet Saren
Summary: Set at the end of the First Contact War. A group of turians and humans have been stranded on a lonely planet for 20yrs unaware that the war has ended. Separated into two colonies, turian and human, the leaders of both groups make it a point to avoid each other. That is until a human has relations with a turian which marks them for exile. I own none of Bioware's characters.
1. Chapter 1

Castaway

Garrus planted his temple absently against the institutional grays of the twelve by twelve stone slab that made up one wall of his cell. Distant noises like white static drifted past his ear canals—nothing he could make out even if he wanted to.

Heavy eyes once tinted with pearl blue now sank to his ankles cladded in iron links, secured to the wall. Pain drummed his wrists which were also secured; pain trailing up the back of his legs, mauling his spinal cord, up to his neck—pain from resting on bare rock for so long. He hadn't even bothered counting the days; emotions blurred out from the stupidity that beseeched his people.

"Charged with indecent exposure as well as fornication with a human, assault with deadly intent." Chief Vrtehhan exclaimed as if he were reading a tech manual. "Take him to his cell to await his sentencing." Without even looking up from his scroll, the Chief ordered Garrus away. The guards snatched him by his arms, dragging him from Chief Vrtehhan's presence.

He had been in prison for nineteen days with very little food, water, and sunlight. A bucket and sponge was brought to him for bathing; an insult given the fact that he was bound to the damn wall. His mind couldn't hold on the rage he felt inside for his own people. The fact that they would treat one of their own as if he were less than a fucking varren. Even the wretched smell of his own bowels couldn't bring him to the point his logical part of the brain desired.

Her red hair, long and thick… those saddened eyes dressed in leafy green. Her lips curved in a smile as I tower over her, offering a fruit in one hand and a silent hope of friendship painted in my eyes. That was the first time we met.

CRRRNK CLINK TICK TICK TICK CLINK! The metal bars slide to one side, weighted footsteps amble toward his pit of darkness. His eyes stayed fix on one spot for so long, Garrus doesn't even realize that his eyes are open. "Am I dreaming?" his mind whispered.

"Alright nakt'n lover, time to go." A turian encompassed in onyx body armor that exaggerates his naturally jagged edges spat as he undid the cuffs. The other two turian guards chuckled before the one dressed in black retracted sharply. "Ew, he stinks, like a newborn nakt'n."

Laughter flooded the space as Garrus' body stayed rooted in the fading memory of the human he had come to love.

"Get up, nakt'n-lover." He barked again before yanking Garrus up harshly on to his feet.

Weakness ate at his legs like termites eating wood. He dropped suddenly, only to be grabbed by several more hands. Then his body was drug out of the darkness, down a long hall, through some double doors, and into the light.

"Mmmm." He snapped his head away from the sun's happy rays, sealing his avian eyes shut to the noise of colors that greeted them. Garrus was brought outside in the early morning. The guards dropped him the ground in the middle of a clearing—a place that was used for storytelling.

"Get this nakt'n-lover cleaned up." The one in dark armor ordered. There were more guards outside, but Garrus could care less.

Talons lashed at his filthy rags, tearing them from his beaten body. Once removed, his body was stationed in the fetal position while buckets of cold water were thrown upon him. He felt what could've passed for a mop, sliding all over his frame. Garrus felt himself shivering as more water was thrown on him. The process repeated for a long time. He was repositioned by the guards so that all of his body would be cleaned. Afterwards he was clothed and forced to stand until the Chief and the rest of the tribe awoke.

* * *

The sun was trying to beat down on Garrus' back but his plates prevented it. A noise similar to grasshoppers was given off by some kind of insects hidden in the tall brush encompassing the entire village. Garrus just held his gaze straight ahead as Chief Vrtehhan moved to his sacred chair, several feet in front of him.

The audience encompassed Garrus, the Chief, and the rest of the turian hierarchy, gripped in suspense as the human they called a nakt'n-whore was brought forth. Her desperate grunts in the distance were enough to pull Garrus out of his haze. He turned his head slightly to her direction.

Limping with her head hanging down; thick locks coated in mud, a single article of cloth covered her warn frame. The guard escorting her, held her upper arms with both of his talons, practically dragging her—as he were taking out the trash. Verbal clamor of disgust at the sight of the human overtook the crowd. Once in the center, the guard jerked her sagging form into attention. She winced at the pain causing Garrus to tense up.

Snapping at the guard, more guards intercepted him, before he could do anything. He was hit several times with batons until he dropped to his knees. Then he was jerked up by the one wearing ebony armor.

"Pathetic," the guard in black spat.

"Enough." Chief Vrtehhan finally spoke. His mandibles were tight against his face as he studied Garrus who was now restrained. He tried to struggle in his grip but the arms that held him were fierce.

The audience voice their disdain for his actions. All were at agreement except for Garrus' best friend, Nihlus and his sister Sol. Garrus' father was a part of the turian hierarchy—the Chief's Intelligence Board, or CIB as it was called—and he did nothing to prevent what was going on. "It's obvious that you can't control yourself."

The Chief continued. "You are a rogue turian, a danger to our order, and disgrace to the people. And as for her… the… human," he waved his hand at her as if shooing a varren. "Being with that is a direct assault on the foundation of our core principles."

Garrus glanced at the human. Her head was still slumped and her breath was labored.

"Humans are the enemy here, always have been. They're vile, lying beasts that only desire authority over everything. They do not know instruction only chaos. Their appetites for power are insatiable, and for that we do not mingle with such-_things_!" He fanned the human away again.

A sea of heads bobbed up and down in agreement.

"Since we lack the numbers to go to war, we spare them the genocide they deserve—we spare your lives as well." Garrus couldn't say that he was relieved even though he felt his shoulders drop. They could've just given out. "We hereby sentence you both to exile-indefinitely."

Garrus heard his sister gasp, clapping her hands over her mouth. He glanced at her to see those sky blue eyes overtaken by grief.

"Was there any words you would like to speak before your departure?"

Garrus was still focused on the dirt in front of him. The whispers from the crowd melted in his ear canals. His mandibles hung open like broke doors at a saloon. He couldn't feel himself standing, it was as if he were floating, listening to the birds chirping and the wind blowing against the clouds; water dripping off leaves—the last of the morning dew.

"How could you?" she finally spoke, Camorra Shepard, Garrus' forbidden lover. Her once strong voice, now eroded from being without proper nutrients for so long. Her head finally rose, green weary eyes glaring at the real perpetrators. "How could you do this… to your own, your own flesh and blood." Her eyes, her truth bore into Garrus' father, the older turian shifting his weight uncomfortably.

"Nobody asked you, human." Chief Vrtehhan spat. "You have no say here."

"He's your son for fuck'sake," Shepard roared with what little strength she had left, drawing her capture forward. He tightened his grip on her. Pressing his hand over her mouth, she bit a leathery digit causing the guard to retract in agony.

"Ah," he yelped before Shepard was slapped by another guard; the blow almost knocking her off her feet.

Garrus attempted to lunge at the aggressor but was jerked back by several turians.

"See, the human has plagued his mind, rendering him incapable of honoring the turian code. This plague must be cast out." Chief Vrtehhan exclaimed.

Garrus and Shepard continued to squirm in the grips of their captures. His father, Kruxiv Vakarian, took a step forward, features steeled within his plated face.

"Garrus, my son, we can end this, right here—right now." Kruxiv offered; dead eyes tracing his son's features as his words stilled him. "Kill the human now. Show us all that you choose the clan over that… _thing_ and all will be forgiven."

The guards that restrained him eased up as Kruxiv's words began to settle. The grip on Shepard was insulting as they forced her body to face Garrus. A hand pulled on her fluffy hair to expose her slender neck, suggesting that Garrus strangle her.

Kruxiv ambled toward his son. He stopped just short of him, placing a weathered hand upon Garrus' shoulder. Still in the grasp of the guards, Garrus was breathing heavily; onyx eyes glaring at his father.

"Go on son."

He could feel his fists clinching so tight that his talons were sinking into the softer flesh of his palms. Warm blood ran from cracks in between his digits. Garrus glanced at the human, at Shepard. He could see the worry in those steely green eyes. She wasn't as fragile as she looked but still breakable, like a shattered glass that had been glued back together. She was an orphan that had been adopted by a general in the human colony just twenty klicks east of their position.

Twenty years ago, the first contact war began. A turian battle cruiser in hot pursuit of a human battle cruiser ended up flying dangerously close to a black hole. The vacuum power of the black hole threw both ships off course. They ended up flying through a debris field and crash landing on a small planet with an unstable atmosphere. Com systems were unable to establish a connection outside the planet. The turians blamed it on the brown dwarfs surrounding the planet—causing some sort of electromagnetic interference.

"I won't." Garrus admitted, his voice low but resonating harshly.

Most of the audience gasped. "Is this your final decision?"

Kruxiv moved closer. "Garrus, I know we've never seen eye to eye, but please… think of your sister, your friends, and your mother—please this will kill her." Garrus' mother was gravely ill.

Garrus' eyes left his fathers, mandibles fluttering to illustrate his fragile composure. He took a deep breath before speaking. "I won't let a some turians' blind hatred compromise who I am. Think of all that we can accomplish if we just work together."

"Blind hatred, Garrus look at _it_. Humans are nothing more than primitive barbarians. Their feral minds can't even comprehend the idea of true unity. Spirits, look what they did to this one—she was cast out of her own clan-"

"I have a name you turian bastard." Shepard spat.

"Yeah, that's all you have. Is the ship ready?" Chief Vrtehhan questioned one of the guards.

"Yes sir." The guard replied.

"Get this traitor and his pet out of my sight." Chief Vrtehhan fanned them both away.

Kruxiv stepped aside, mandibles spread and eyes widened with disbelief. Garrus and Shepard were ushered down the path leading to the boat that would take them far away. The two were bound at the wrists and blindfolded before being forced into the makeshift canoe.

Nihlus, the dark armored turian—Beartham, and four more guards accompanied them.

"There is one other that will be joining you two love birds." Beartham was known for borrowing human sayings as well as his brutality. He abused Shepard once she was in his custody. Then he had her go without food or water longer than Garrus.

Another body was felt stepping into the boat. "Convicted murderer and sociopath—Saren Arterius will be joining you."

Shepard could feel Beartham's sickening smile as well as his burning gaze. It sent a chill down her spine; sensing a heavy presence settling down next to her. Garrus remained silent. He was sat far away from Shepard.

"Sit right there Saren, next to Shepard and make yourself comfortable. It's going to be a long trip." Breatham spat.

Garrus hissed, "Get that freak away from her."

"Garrus, is that jealousy I'm sensing?"

The other turians excluding Nihlus laughed.

"Enough." Nihlus barked. The guards grew silent.

"Nihlus please." Garrus kept his gaze straight ahead, unsure of his friend's vicinity until he put a reassuring hand on Garrus shoulder.

"I'll make sure he doesn't harm her. You have my word."

Nihlus' words didn't ease Garrus' tension but it would have to do for now.

"Let's get this heap moving, I want to be back in time for the Two-Moon fest." This planet's second moon could only be seen every three months for a whole week. The festival was more about relieving tension than witnessing a second moon.

CHINK! A guard hit the switch on the control panel causing the anchor to draw up. Once the lines were untied, the boat's engine brought to life; the current carried them toward the center of the river.

"Garrus! Garrus!" a strained voice from the shore called out.

Garrus perked up. "Sol? Sol!" He stood abruptly.

"Sit down." Beartham hissed, ramming his gut with the butt of his rifle.

"Stop it." Nihlus responded, grabbing at Beartham's gun. He snatched it out of Nihlus' grip, reluctantly taking his seat.

Garrus grunted as the pain pulled him back down. "Sol." He cried against the discomfort.

"Garrus, please… Garrus!"

"Stay strong Sol."

He didn't hear an immediate response until the boat started drifting down the river. "I will." She finally responded through tears.


	2. Chapter 2

**Note**: Still working on my other stories. There will be a revision for **When Fire Meets Ice** and a revision for **No One's Angel**. Thank you for all the reviews/support. enjoy the story. Also: Please forgive spelling and grammar mistakes, I'm not the best at those formalities but I moved to get better at it, so if you see anything that is an eyesore, please just let me know. And if you find anything offensive, please just let me know. I will try give you guys a head's up for mature content such as this chapter: Mention of rape.

Again thank you for reading and enjoy.

* * *

Lying in the soil with one hand on her stomach and another on her forehead, Shepard writhed in pain. She could hear heavy winds blowing the trees. Feeling that her breath was labored, she dug her hands in the soil, attempting to gain some kind of leverage so that she could stand up. But with her body in so much pain, her efforts were futile.

Her mind throbbed, trying to get her bearings. The last thing she could remember was Beartham's disgusting face, sneering at her with that twisted turian grin. She moaned, protesting her brain as the image of Beartham refused to fade. Her vision was pulsing, in and out of focus. Fatigue and pain stationed her in the fetal position in what felt like a forest floor. The chirps, grunts, roars, barks, and squawks of animals caught her ears but the noises seemed to not register right away.

Bringing her hand down from upon her forehead, her darkening vision caught the sight of blood, covering her palm. And that was the last image her eyes caught before the darkness claimed her.

* * *

The boat pulled up to shoreline rimming the other half of the island. Garrus sat in silence, still blindfolded with only his friend, Nihlus resting a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. He knew Shepard had been taken off the boat long ago. What he didn't know was where she had been left, or what Beartham and his gang of brutes had done to her?

Saren, had been casted overboard during the storm and was presumably dead. Now it was his turn. Garrus' heart was bleeding for Shepard—his droopy mandibles and the incessant clicks buried in his sub-harmonics; caught by the many turian ears, illustrated his distress for the human.

"Don't worry, nakt'n lover, we didn't hurt your pet _too_ much." Beartham sneered, his companions chuckling.

Garrus met Beartham's eyes through the fabric of his blindfold. Growling beyond his control with the incentive to pounce on the bastard; Nihlus' steady hand stiffened with adrenalin. "I should've went with them," was Nihlus' thought—the regret he would have to live with, but for now, he had to make sure his friend was left in one piece.

"What did you do, Beartham?" Garrus growled. He had been asking—begging, not really wanting to know; just wanting to know if she was still alive? He could only imagine what he did to her. The way he had been badgering her, chastising her like a child throughout the entire journey. His ear had captured the sound of him punching her in the gut when she spat upon his face. Thank the spirits Nihlus was there to stop it. But Nihlus was walking a very tight rope. How much of Nihlus was Beartham willing to put up with before he popped a cap in his ass and left him for dead on this forsaken land of…

* * *

Green. The fleshy trees, ripe with fruit met his eyes as the blindfold was finally removed. He could smell the salt of the ocean, a few hundred yards beyond where he stood. His shackles had been removed as well.

Nihlus was there, stationing the cuffs on his belt.

"You want to know what I did to the nakt'n, Garrus?"

Garrus' body stiffened. Growling was his only response.

"Don't, Beartham." Nihlus warned.

"What? I think he deserves to know, since he won't be seeing her ever again."

"What have you done?" Garrus roared, sub-harmonics screaming.

"My men and I… _satisfied_ our curiosity." Garrus nearly puked. "I must admit, I can see the appeal—that wet, tight feeling when I went inside her, and so very flexible-"

"You were only supposed to drop her off and leave her, nothing else." Nihlus chided, meeting Beartham's face with deadly intent.

"Had she kept her damn mouth shut, I would've considered _just_ leaving her. I probably would've taken the handcuffs off as well."

"Bastard," Garrus snapped, attempting to pounce on Beartham. He stepped back as his men attempted to restrain Garrus, but Nihlus had his back.

Grabbing one of the restraining arms, the guard's face was met by Nihlus' fist—clocking him in the jaw. Then he swiftly moved to another, throwing him off of Garrus. The second guard was sent crashing to the ground. Garrus elbowed an assailant in the gut before flipping him over. Then he dealt him a heavy blow to the back of his fringe, cracking it. The pain tore through the turian's head, slicing down his spine in a manner that made him black out.

In a panic, Beartham whipped out his gun. They had to use their firearms sparingly, as supplies were limited. Nihlus had brandished his out at the same instant.

"I should kill you where you stand you pathetic waste of life." Nihlus spat.

"Kill me? Put the gun down, dead-meat, you're out-numbered."

"You can't kill me, Beartham. I'm your successor. If I die, you lose your council candidacy." Nihlus spat.

In the traditional turian hierarchy, the reins of power were given in pairs, with the chief—or Primarch-of the clan representing the voice of the council. If either of the two pairs for the council were compromised in any way—rendering them unfit for service, both council members are replaced.

Nihlus knew how much Beartham wanted power, nabbing him by the balls with that threat. Beartham glared at Nihlus, gun slightly shaking, anger like a raging inferno in his veins before he reluctantly slipped his weapon back into its holster. Nihlus' mandibles flickered as an attempt to muffle the grin appearing on his face.

The other guards, who were not injured, put their weapons at their sides to aid the wounded. Beartham couldn't stand the sight of Nihlus, taking his eyes off the turian as he Nihlus lowered his gun.

Once the other turians had relaxed, that was when Garrus attacked, snatching a knife from one of the guard's holsters, he made quick work of the turian in order to get to Beartham. He wasn't going to let him leave this island alive, even if he died in the process. The sound of gunfire whizzed past his ears but wasn't enough to stifle his attempts. Nihlus must have been behind him, shooting at the ones who fired at Garrus—another body dropping before Garrus' very eyes.

Beartham struggled to remove his gun as Garrus tackled him to the ground. The two rolled within the dirt, both hands on gun; the knife falling some time ago. A nice head-butt followed by a few punches to the face should've deterred him from gaining the upper-hand, but Beartham's damn minions grabbed him from behind.

Nihlus had been forced into cover by the gunfire. Garrus wasn't giving up, kicking Beartham as the other two turians—one injured-wrestled him backward. Another turian was downed by Nihlus' hand, before he ran in to aid Garrus who was still struggling with the other two.

Garrus managed to grab another knife out of its owner's holder just as Nihlus snatched the turian up. Garrus head-butted the turian hold him from behind before jutting the blade into the gut of the second turian. The other turian resorted to pummeling Garrus in the clavicle, while he struggled to free his weapon with the other hand. Garrus saw this, bringing his entire body around his attacker—slipping the turians head into a choke-hold.

Nihlus was finishing his battle with the snap of the wounded turian's neck when… POW!

A single shot froze everyone who was still alive.

Nihlus fell to his knees, Beartham standing behind him, with his gun still aimed.

"Nihlus!" Garrus heard himself scream. The cold look of shock, glossing over Nihlus' once peaceful green eyes as he fell; Garrus' heart was now left bleeding.

Nihlus barely turned his head to look his murderer in the eyes when… POW! Another shot to the chest threw him backward.

"No!" Garrus attempted to struggle but was finally subdued with a stab just underneath the ribcage. Another stab was inevitable when the turian's hand—brandishing the blade-was stilled by Beartham's voice.

"Hold it." He padded over to Garrus who was almost in the fetal position, glancing at his fallen friend, tears staining his vision. The turian who was in a choke-hold had gotten free, and was now holding Garrus down.

He felt Beartham's foot come up to his face, kicking him violently—enough to make teeth fall out. Spitting out blood and teeth, his face was kicked again and again. Then he felt his face being punched several times before Beartham's face neared his.

"Your little stunt has cost me my candidacy, but that's okay. I'll just use that pretty little sister of yours." Beartham spat.

Garrus' eyes grew, knowing that his sister was on the candidacy; all he had to do was marry her, and with that, he could become a potential member of the council again. But she would never marry him, unless forced.

"You… stay away… from my sister. You rotten pyjack." Garrus spoke in between precious breaths that were stifled by pain.

Breatham grabbed his face, turning his neck painfully to the side, in order to meet Garrus' striking, blue eyes. "Oh she will have me. And I'm going to fuck her senseless, just like I did that little nakt'n. Then she will bear my offspring and we'll be one big happy fucking family."

Garrus winced at the strain to his neck and the thought of Beartham touching his sister with his grubby paws. "All the while, you and all that you are will die here, with Nihlus. Alone and forgotten." Beartham continued.

"You will… die for what you did… to Nihlus you… piece of varren shit." Garrus hissed.

"Hm, dying but still with enough balls to cast empty threats at the one who did him in. Cute." Beartham replied. Then he drug his tongue across Garrus' bloodied face-plates. "Mmm, taste like leftover nakt'n." Releasing Garrus' head harshly, Beartham proceeded to strip Nihlus of his weapons and any other survival gear he had. He ended by spitting upon Nihlus' body and kicking Garrus once more in the gut.

"So long, Vakarian."


	3. Chapter 3

**Note**: There's a lot of jumping around in this chapter. Thanks for your reviews.

* * *

"Get up, Vakarian. On your feet soldier." Garrus heard the voice say. Was it in his head? It had to be. The voice sounded like Nihlus.

"Garrus." A more defined voice called out in the dizzy haze—seemingly closer. Garrus snapped to life, fighting against the pain gnawing at his bottom rib. He clapped his hand against the wound, feeling the warm tears of blood pool over his talons. His free hand dug into the soft dirt, pulling him closer to his best friend.

"Nihlus." He uttered painfully.

"G-Garrus." Nihlus began when Garrus rolled him over on his back. "N-n-need to… save… save her… Shepard—she's… still alive."

"What—how do you know?" It didn't matter how Nihlus knew that Shepard lived. All that mattered now was trying to keep his best friend alive.

"B-back pocket." He whispered.

Garrus raised a brow-plate in question, not wanting to cause Nihlus anymore agony by moving him. He did so as cautiously as he could; feeling that whatever was in Nihlus' back pocket must be of dire importance. His talons bounced from pocket to pocket until they came across a lighter and slip of paper.

He gracefully returned Nihlus' body to a more comfortable position before unfolding the paper. It looked like a map, and there was an X with the name, Shepard, written next to it. Nihlus had noted where the human had been left.

"Save her… before… before the rains."

"The rains?" Garrus whined, fighting the tears that threatened to boil over. "I've got to save you, first, friend." His hand glided down Nihlus' mandible gently.

"Save… me by… saving… her…" he tried to say more but was choking on his own blood. His entire upper-half was consumed by blue blood. Blood stained his mouth and throat. His hands were also covered in blood. "Must… save-"

"Nihlus." Garrus uttered. Nihlus' eyes dimming, his breath more sporadic; Garrus could feel his best friend tensing up. "Nihlus… please don't… don't go." With a few more attempts for air, Nihlus choked on his own blood, dying in Garrus' arms.

He dropped his forehead down on Nihlus', closing his eyes in defeat. Garrus stayed there, a piece of him dead as well.

* * *

Beartham had made it back to the boat, barely. His crew now dwindled with two who were fit for duty, three dead, and one dying. Everyone climbed in the boat as the onyx clouds of doom were rolling in. They had flirted with the party before, threatening to cast strong winds and wild ocean waves at their boat, half-way through the journey.

"Hurry up, get in, get in." Beartham spat, carelessly ushering his companions in the boat before drawing up the anchor. He ignored the cries from the wounded, writing them off as already dead in his mind.

With the sail hoisted, the boat slowly drifted away from the shoreline. He watched the island, grow smaller and smaller, as the storm neared the landmass. The waters beat the side of the boat with vengeance, wind casting insults to the sail. Beartham sat on pins and needles, hoping to outrun the storm.

* * *

"Garrus? Garrus? You need to go."

Garrus raised his head from Nihlus' skull. The winds had picked up, blowing the trees wildly. Garrus felt a pain in the back of his neck—strained from sitting in such an uncomfortable position for so long.

"Garrus, you have to save her." Garrus looked down at Nihlus, the natural glow from within his plates, faded long ago.

"I can't." he whined to the voice.

"You can. Now get on your feet and go. Go now."

"I can't leave you, Nihlus," still embracing his friend's cold corpse.

Something inside him drove Garrus to stand up; perhaps it was the angry wind, or the shout of thunder, or maybe the black clouds hailing over the island? Whatever it was—Garrus was up, staring at the body of Nihlus. He wanted to bury him. He owed Nihlus that much.

"I will avenge you, Nihlus. I swear on the holiest spirits of Atuge."

* * *

Resting next to a tree, Shepard ran her hand up and down the soft vine. The thunder barking over her head, lighting whipping the sky into submission; she was mostly oblivious to it all.

An insect past by her hand, drawing her focus. "Hello." She uttered softly as the elongated creature passed by. Shepard could feel her body melting down on to the soft, inviting ground.

There was blood still upon her head, but she didn't know how it had gotten there. A half-smile blessed her face while her surroundings were captured in a bubbling effect.

"I love you all," she whispered to the many ants that walked near her arm. Shepard could feel one of her hands stroking the ground as if she were lying on a giant varren.

The sound of dead leaves crushing beneath one's feet as they approached drew her attention. She had been lying on her side, rolling over on her opposite side as she spoke, "Nihlus, what are you doing here?"

* * *

Nabbing some fungus off a tree, Garrus chewed it up before placing it on his wound. The medicinal fungi stung for a moment as Garrus struggled to catch his breath. After resting for a bit, he moved on, the wind beating harder against the trees. At least the rain would provide him with water, Shepard too if she was still alive. Nihlus said she was, but how did know? He was he so sure?

"Nihlus." Garrus groaned as he stumbled through the vegetation. He took a few slaps to the face by some happy plants. Pressing through the greenery, Garrus lost his footing, falling down a small hill.

He groaned in agony as he landed hard on the side brandishing the wound—still ripe with excruciating pain. "Shit." He uttered. He rolled over onto his back, inhaling the fresh air, body throbbing in protest. Rest felt so good. "I'm going to close my eyes, just for a minute."

* * *

"You have to get up, Garrus. She doesn't have that much time." The voice, sounding like a darker Nihlus, begged through the blaring wind.

"Before the rains?" Garrus uttered in question as his eyes slowly opened.

The sky was darker, angrier. No rain had come yet, but it would be there soon. Garrus slowly got to his feet, needing the aid of a nearby tree for leverage. He breathed heavily as the pain dug into his side. Forcing himself off the tree, he made is way, in the direction he felt was right.

Tearing through the vegetation once more, he raced against the storm with all odds against him. Hell, he was probably going to die from internal bleeding, but if got to look into Shepard's eyes one more time, then it would all be worth it.

"I'm coming, Shepard." He sang, hopeful that she was still alive.

His legs trudged through the jungle, everything seemingly a blur in his eyes. He needed to make it back to the shore line, so he could get a better since of direction. Garrus could still smell the ocean. He could practically taste it on his tongue. Thanks to his heightened senses, he could easily find the beach.

Garrus had to climb down several hills which was no easy feat in his predicament. Eventually he made it down to the beach. The roaring wind, whipping sand and water around like it was nothing. Garrus pulled out the map Nihlus had drawn. There was a land mark: a pyramid shaped rock above the X. Then the symbol for: approximately, and twenty yards.

"If I find the pyramid, I find Shepard." Garrus hummed within his mind.

Easier said than done. The land rose and fell, with small mountains and jagged terrain that was unpredictable underneath all that green. Plus there was a serious storm rolling in, and there was no telling how much damage it would possibly do? He had never witnessed a storm that didn't leave the land in shambles. The last storm they had—when Garrus was still a part of the clan—left two turians dead; not good when your species was already on the brink of extinction.

* * *

"Is Garrus coming?" Shepard moaned, lying on her back, staring up at the black sky.

"Garrus is on his way." The voice replied.

She glanced to her side, making out a turian figure. Her vision was still distorted, only seeing his outline. His chest was consumed by white light, but it did not hurt her eyes as she looked upon it.

"Good. I miss him." She felt herself growing more tired and dizzier.

"Just hold on, Shepard."

Unable to respond, she nodded her head as the darkness took her again.

* * *

Tearing through the jungle again, Garrus felt certain that he was on the right track. Following his heart more than Nihlus' map, his body crashed into several trees as he struggled through the foliage. Fueled solely by adrenalin, Garrus refused to stop. The pain had dulled away a long time ago. The jungle had taken on a darkish hue, but it still hadn't rained yet. Thunder continued to scream and lightning made itself more prevalent. Garrus ignored natures war cry with a cry of his own.

"Hold on, Shepard, I'm coming." He spat while catching his breath on a large rock. "A large rock!" Garrus suddenly kicked off the rock, backing up enough to see its shape.

It was not a pyramid, but this was the first large, well defined boulder he had seen. He must be getting closer. He pulled out the map for any more clues: A series of large mountains. This must be the series of mountainous terrain. Sliding the paper back into his pocket, Garrus continued.

* * *

"Watch out!" Beartham screamed as the sail collapsed. The boat was overflowing with water. Another turian was using the drainage pump feverishly while the other was fighting to start the motor.

The boat was lifted on to the top of a large wave.

"Hold on." Beartham warned, the boat tilting forward.

He dug his talons in to the wood of the banister for stability. The boat drove bow first into the crater of ocean, water cascading from the aft.

"Aaaaaaaaaaah!" Beartham and the remainder of the crew cried in unison.

* * *

Garrus was still pushing past the vegetation. Every so often he had to stop—not wanting to, but needing to rest. Leaning against a tree, he breathed heavily.

"Garrus, you have to keep moving. You're so close."

"I… need… a moment." Garrus protested.

"Shepard needs you."

Exhausted but determined, Garrus pushed off the tree, trudging through the foliage once again. His legs felt like mush. The root of a tree caught his foot, causing him to fall. Garrus landed on his palms and his needs. The stabbing pain, determined to leave him flat on his face. Placing a palm over the wound, he struggled to get on his feet but it hurt so bad.

"What's that?" He mentally asked himself, feeling moisture run down the back of his neck. Garrus ran a hand across the back of his neck, revealing the presence of water.

"The rains!" he uttered in revelation. Fighting against the pain, he got up on his feet, tearing through the jungle as best he could.

The atmosphere was dark and the thunder roared, rain weeping from the sky.

"No." Garrus cried as he pressed on.

He traveled the same path, battling the vicious storm that was deliberately trying to blow him off his feet. Nothing seemed to be on his side.

* * *

"I feel like I'm floating, Nihlus." Shepard sang.

"Just try to stay awake." The silhouette urged.

"Mmm, okay. I'll try to stay… awake… it's just so relaxing." Shepard spoke as the water pooled around her. Her fingers toyed with the moist soil, lightning showering over the sky. Rain soaked her garments, cleaning the open wounds. She was lying on her chest with her face turned to the side. Everything in her vision still seemed to pulse.

The storm pounded the island, tossing vegetation around like feathers in the wind. Garrus could barely see, feeling his way through the jungle. He fell several times, face first in puddles of water. Each time he got up, it was more painful than the last time—exhausted to the point he was crawling. Every nerve in his body was screaming, begging him to give up; to lie down and never get back up.

"Keep going, Garrus. You're almost there." He heard a voice in the sky shout with the lightning. His eyes focused on the cracks in the sky, driving him forward. Garrus trudged with all he had. He was going to find her even if it killed him.

* * *

The rain continued to pour, saturating the land. Garrus could feel his feet sinking in the mud with every step. The lightning was his only source of light. Lying against another rock, he looked up to the sky in defeat.

"I can't." he finally admitted. Breathing heavily; it felt like his heart was going to explode. He had no sense of time—having not eaten in what felt like forever. The cool water washed down his plates, bathing him in peace.

"You have to." The voice urged.

"It's too dark. She could be anywhere down there." Garrus whined, overlooking the small valley below. He had made it up a small mountain, using the vines as leverage.

"You're closer than you know, Garrus Vakarian."

* * *

The water had pooled around Shepard's body. She was completely soaked and shivering.

"Nihlus, it's beautiful up here." Shepard sang.

"I thought you'd like it." He replied. They were among the stars, looking down on the planet they called home.

"Wow," Turning to the green-eyed turian, she exclaimed, "I wish Garrus could see this."

"He will, one day."

"What else is up here?" Shepard moved closer to him.

Meeting her eyes, Nihlus repled, "Anything you can imagine."

* * *

CRACK! The ground gave from beneath his feet. Garrus slipped, falling down a trench. He slid through the jungle, hitting shrubs as the water carried him closer to the edge of a cliff. His momentum was too great and his body too weak to escape the inevitable.

His body was sent flying off the edge of the cliff. He landed in a tree moments later. A branch broke, sending him to the forest floor with a loud, wet thud. Garrus awoke moments later, barely raising his head. A flash of lighting sliced through the darkness, highlighting several trees, the uneven ground, and… a body.

He didn't know where the strength came from, but Garrus crawled over to the body, lying on its side. He turned it over. "Shepard!"

Garrus held her in his arms. Her once almond skin was now pale. She was still limber. He ran his hand across her cheek to rid it of the dirt.

"I'm here. Shepard." Garrus laid his forehead on hers, fighting the exhaustion that consumed his body.

The storm raged on for most of the night, flooding the lowest half of the island. Garrus pressed himself next to a wall of foliage with his lover in his arms, ready to embrace death. He closed his eyes, laying his fringe against the softened bark.


	4. Chapter 4

Note: I just want to clarify, in the 2nd Chapter-when mentioning the turian hierarchy, I was calling it the council when I meant to call it the chief's Intelligence Board-CIB. Sorry for the confusion.

* * *

The rain bore down on Garrus and Shepard, all through the night, flooding their moment of solace. He held her in his arms, stationed by a large tree, awaiting death. As the sky became touched with blue—the birth of the new horizon—the rain suddenly dissipated. Only the song of water dripping off of trees captured his ear canals.

Shepard's body was cold, no longer shaking. Garrus continued stroking her face; hooded eyes seeing beyond the forest. Hunger calmed his stomach but not his mind. He was freezing, but felt numb. The turian sat there holding the human until the sun came up.

* * *

"Shepard, it's time for you to go." Nihlus spoke, sitting on the edge of the rings that rimmed the second moon of their home world.

"But I don't want to leave. It's so peaceful here." She sang, playing with little sparkles that danced around her palm as she held it out.

"You must. Garrus is waiting for you."

"Garrus!"

"Yes, go just beyond the light." He encouraged, pointing an illuminated talon at the pulse of light emanating just past the stars.

"What about you? Aren't you coming?" She asked, compelled to stand up.

Nihlus also rose, dressed casual. He didn't respond right away. "I must stay here."

"But why?"

"Because I must." Nihlus huffed, not annoyed. It was her time to go, and she had had to leave now.

"I don't understand? I want you to come with me." Shepard's eyes engorged with worry.

"I'll be watching over both you and Garrus." Nihlus hummed as the star began to zoom by.

"Nihlus?"

"Get to the cave. It's entrance will be bordered by a square."

"Nihlus? I don't want to leave you." The stars moved in a blur past her eyes. Nihlus was still standing, seemingly not moving with the flow of stars.

"No matter what, you and Garrus will never be alone. I'll always be with you."

Shepard turned around, her eyes catching the ambiance of light in full force. She turned back to Nihlus. The light within his clavicle grew. Now he seemed to be moving backward with the stars.

"Nihlus." She reached for him but he did not reach for her. "Nihlus!"

* * *

"Nihlus!" She groaned, reaching upward; the light consuming her vision entirely. White light gave way to fuzzy images of trees; the silky touch of wind blowing past her skin.

Her many fingers danced along Garrus' mandible, plucking him from his dismal state. His eyes shot down, landing on her pale features. The color was already returning to her honey skin. Brow-plates shifting to a higher stance; he expected her to be… not alive, and him to be following suit.

"Nihlus." She continued, exasperated. Her hand remained on his mandible.

Unable to speak, Garrus' mandible flicked outward—a kind of silent greeting—holding enough weight on its own to be recognized as such by the human.

Eyes fully reclaiming focus; Shepard's eyelids rose and fell slowly. Her neck flexed from side to side briefly with the fellowship of her shoulders—stiff from the uncomfortable position.

"Garrus." She groaned again.

"Hey." Garrus replied dryly, his throat parched, body twisted by grief like wringing out a wet rag. Drops of emotion had run from him a long time ago, but with the rebirth of Shepard, he felt revitalized.

"Hi." Her voice was innocent, still blinking profusely. She flexed again, hinting to Garrus that she was still uncomfortable.

"Can you stand?"

She nodded her head. Shepard sat up slowly with the aid of the turian. A strained moan escaped her mouth, verbalizing the pain that was slowly being illustrated before Garrus' eyes. He first noticed the shredded garment hugging her bony back. Angry lacerations—tales of a dark mating ritual, most likely forced—stained his eyes.

There were turian bite marks on her shoulder, nicks on the soft flesh of her neck. She breathed heavily, running her many fingers over the ravaged skin on her shoulder. Garrus felt his blood run cold with hatred. They had mutilated her. His stomach twisted with the promise of regurgitation.

He felt compelled to comfort her even though he betted that she didn't want a man of any kind touching her ever again. She was glancing at the distance, absentmindedly. They sat there for seemingly forever before, Shepard finally spoke.

"There's a cave." Pointing her finger, she continued, "that way. Nihlus said that the entrance is shaped like a square." Shepard's voice held a bit of a tremble, but it was difficult for Garrus to get a decent read on her emotions through her vocals; she was human after all.

Garrus winced at the painful thought of Nihlus Kryik, his body still resting on the forest floor, several miles away. And he just left him there. Garrus' heart dropped to his stomach. That was until Shepard attempted to get up.

The birds were chirping and had been for quite some time. The sun didn't dare show its face, hinting that maybe another storm—or at least a lot of rain was prevalent. They were both starving but neither of them seemed to be concerned by that fact—for the moment.

Shepard struggled to get to her feet, wincing with every move. Garrus rose to his feet, gravity finally making itself known. The blood seemed to rush back into his legs and arms as they were forced to move.

"Mmmm." Garrus whined as he stood up. Several bones popped while the two stretched their aching limbs.

Hearing the human wince far too many times for his liking, Garrus spoke. "Can you walk?" His eyes landed on the fact that the table cloth turned dress was ripped as if it were forced upward. There were marks on her thighs—huge purplish bruises, and no underwear in sight.

Shepard's arms slowly sank down, pushing the fabric down, wincing as she did so. Garrus turned around, slightly out of respect but mostly to keep from exploding with rage. He could not believe what those monsters had done to his human. Her body was ravaged. He could feel tears burning his weary eyes. The turian had to blink several times in order for the tears to sink back down into the bitter ducts on the corner of his eyes. He silently thanked the spirits that she was human, unable to pick up on the raging sub-harmonics exploding from within his voice box

"I think so." She responded.

Garrus spun back around, marching up to her, the pain returning to his side. He hissed as the pain stabbed him.

Shepard faced him, her many digits traveling to the wound. "Garrus, you're hurt!"

"I'm okay." He lied. Hell, he could be bleeding to death, or in the beginning stages of a severe infection. Either way, Garrus had to stay alive just long enough to ensure her survival.

Unsure of what to do, she continued to ghost her fingers over the front part of his body, near the wound. It looked bad: swollen and pale around the darker skin—not covered by plates. The fungi had turned slightly darker than its original vanilla color, signifying that it could no longer nourish the injury. "Garrus," she uttered as her green eyes threatened to shatter with tears.

Garrus glanced down at the cut. He could feel its stabbing touch, reaching within him, a little bit past his bottom rib. He went to feel it. Upon contact, he winced louder than he could bite the pain back, causing Shepard to flinch.

"I'm fine." He choked out. After several long seconds he said, "We need to get moving."

The worry rooted itself in Shepard's green eyes. "Okay." She replied innocently, but her eyes lingered on his wound.

"Come on." Garrus neared her, putting his arm around her neck. They headed into the foliage, traveling with a hope and a prayer—looking for a place to make shelter before the next storm.

* * *

The angry sea had receded for now. Remnants of the boat bobbed in the ocean like pedals from a dead flower cast into a disturbed puddle of black water. Beartham held on to the piece of wood desperately. His heart thudded in his chest, mandibles spread to their fullest. He kicked his legs like a jelly fish fluttering in the water—clueless on how to swim.

He knew he couldn't stay in the water like this. Beartham was a sitting duck. The boat had capsized, and remarkably, he was the only one who had survived. Beartham paddled his hand toward a larger piece of wood. It took him a long time to paddle toward the debris. Once he reached angled wood, it took him a while to muster up the courage to flee the smaller debris for the larger one.

Beartham eventually pulled all his weight into the crook of the boat. Glancing at the sky, he could see the blackness had faded, but the threat of rain was still imminent. He barely casted a glance at his surroundings for survivors before nabbing up a long, flat piece of wood for a paddle. Every uneven splash of water caused him to flinch, looking in the direction of the sound—fearing what lurked in the depths of the ocean.

Gwanga, a large sea beast; humans described it as being a prehistoric crocodile. It was forty feet long, at least, and it walked on its legs like a dog. A few months after crash-landing on this planet the turians made the fatal mistake of camping near the river. Gwanga destroyed their camp with the swipe of its tail. Laser bullets did nothing to its extremely tough, plated skin; each step shaking the ground to its core. And that was only the first of many attacks.

Beartham began to paddle, heart still racing. A large bubble exploded behind him. He glanced back swiftly before paddling faster. There were also sharks, giant toxic jelly fish, large squid that had been known for attacking boats, a species of killer whale that had two heads and was highly territorial, fish that flew—attacking land animals and people, and many other deadly sea creatures.

He paddled as hard as he could, seemingly not making any progress.


	5. Chapter 5

"There it is," Shepard spoke weakly, pointing a shaking digit at the cave's entrance. "I bet Nihlus is in there, waiting for us."

Garrus went to speak but the words never left his tongue as Shepard glanced back at him, hope filling her eyes.

"We can climb up… here." She tugged at some thick vines snaking up to the entrance.

The turian's eyes swam the length of the vines. With his injury, the rain, and their weakened state made the way up seem longer than it actually was. Camorra was already testing the strength of the vines-her body still shaking from the cold rain and lack of nutrition.

"Nihlus, Nihlus, we're coming up," she exclaimed.

"Wait." Garrus barked, grabbing Camorra's attention. "Perhaps we should wait until the rain stops."

Camorra glanced up at the weeping clouds. "Who knows how long that's gonna be."

Garrus felt himself growing weary. He rested his back against the side of the mountain, mandibles slack. Next thing he knew he was on the floor with the human rushing to his side.

"Garrus!" She grabbed his arm, wrapping her body around him securely. Her hands neared his wound.

The turian groaned, holding her hand to prevent her from inspecting the injury. "It's alright." He lied again.

"No it's not. You need help." Her voice was a whimper. "Let's rest for a bit. When we get up to the cave, Nihlus can help me patch you up."

Garrus didn't respond with words. Reaching up, he touched her bruised face. She rested her head—feeling like a thousand pounds sitting between her shoulders—on Garrus' cowl. They held each other on the mountain, water cascading over them until the rain subsided.

* * *

Slowly slapping the water with the paddle, Beartham had worn himself out. He had made no progress by his standards, groaning with sub-harmonics sputtering his anxiety and fear. On labored breath, Beartham slid the wooden paddle into the piece of boat, switching back to his hand.

The rain was still misting on him, soaking his undergarments. If it continued, he would have to remove his clothes, or suffer the wrath of jungle rot and or the flue. The turians body shivered with maddening rage. He was practically whimpering as he beat the water.

Mild waves brushed his makeshift boat against the direction he strived for. The ocean had been doing this all day as if taunting him.

"I'm not gonna let you win, you bitch. You hear me!" He barked at Mother Nature with dry vocals.

Exhausted, he finally collapsed in the little corner of wood he had. Water stained the back, giving him no reprieve from the ocean. He had to keep his legs dangling in the water. Fearing the sharks and gwanga more than anything, Beartham continuously kicked his legs.

"I should'a fucking killed them all." He growled out. "Curse you, Vakarian. Curse you and your stupid nakt'n-whore!" he broke into a fit of cackles as the water rocked the floating debris.

* * *

"Where did all that strength come from," Garrus wondered as he gazed upward?

Camorra Shepard had the vines wrapped around her wrists, pulling herself upward; the many digits on her bare feet grasping a hold of every nook and cranny as she advanced. Garrus on the other hand, was struggling. Despite having talons; he was heavier and seriously wounded.

Each time he pulled himself up it felt like he was being stabbed all over again. He had to grit his teeth to keep from screaming out in agony. Every so often Camorra would glance down at him to monitor his progress. She knew she would make it to the entrance first, and she planned on getting Nihlus to help her pull him up. "He was probably exploring the cave," she told herself.

"Almost there." She cheered.

The rain refused to let up, causing Camorra to lose her footing for a split second. Luckily, the vines were wrapped around securely enough to catch her. "Shit," she gasped for the second time as she reestablished herself on the cliff.

"You okay down there?" She called back to Garrus.

His answer came delayed—words battling the mouth for the intake of precious air. "Yeah." His response was weak and troublesome in the human's ears.

Finally, her dirty palm slapped the ground leading to the entrance of the cave. She pulled herself up with God-given strength. Dragging her body across the ground, she winced at her soreness.

Camorra looked up to see a path accompanied by silhouettes of sharp twisted mounds leading into a deep darkness.

"Nihlus," she called out, barely able to stand.

There was no response.

She was going to try again when the sound of Garrus struggling alarmed her. Turning on a heel, she crashed at the edge of the entrance, pressing her body flat against the floor again, reaching with one hand.

"Come on Garrus."

Defeat was in his eyes. That all too familiar dizziness was attempting to take hold of him; blinking profusely, he pressed his body against the rocks.

"Garrus, don't stop. You've just got a few more steps."

Her voice faded in and out of his head. Blurry clouds of darkness pressed at the corners of his vision, promising to take him on another blank reverie. He was just about to give in—unable to fight any longer when he felt a burst of adrenalin roaring into his body like thunder through pouring rain. He tightened his grip and pulled himself upward.

With a few more attempts, Garrus reached her hand, and was mindful of his weight as she helped him up. Once on solid ground, Garrus collapsed on the floor. His surroundings were spinning out of control before darkness claimed him.

* * *

Sometime later, Garrus awoke to the sound of dripping water. His nose picked up on the scent of fire, jolting him out of his rest. He shot to an upright position only for his cowl to be greeted by a soft human hand. He winced at the pain under his rib.

"It's okay, Garrus. It's just me." Camorra sang, holding a leaf turned bowl in her other hand. Nearing the leaf to his face she said, "Drink."

Garrus obeyed. He gulped down the water, breathing heavily. She had more leaf bowls filled with water and she handed him another. Garrus drank until his thirst was quenched. Then his eyes partook of the surroundings. The cave was a good size for him and Camorra; a huge open space that broke off into another section that led further back. The ground was mostly even and smooth from what he was able to see.

"Are you-"

"I'm okay. Lay back down." Camorra replied.

Garrus wanted to explore the cave to ensure that it was safe but Camorra was right. He needed the rest. First, he needed to inspect the wound. As he glanced down, he noticed that he was naked.

"I had to get you out of those clothes. You were freezing."

Garrus didn't respond. He was sitting buck-ass naked near the warm fire. His clothes were lying on a large slab of rock a little ways away from him, Camorra's too. At that revelation, his eyes went back to the human. She was naked as well, crouched in front of him; the light of the fire dancing softly on her light brown skin.

"While I was undressing you, I found your lighter, and that's how a made the fire."

Unable to sit upright any longer because of the pressure on his injury, Garrus lied back down. "And what did you use for fuel," he asked through gritted teeth?

"Mushrooms and weeds. And I got some moss drying near the fire. I'll use that next time—oh, I also found these." Reaching for another leaf bowl, she brought it over to Garrus' face. "Berries that we both can eat."

Garrus sat up slightly, motivated purely by hunger. He ignored the searing pain in his side, popping the berries in his mouth. "You-"

"I already ate." She humbly stated.

Garrus finished the bowl, laying his head back. His fringe sat uncomfortably against a lump of vines. She knew he was uncomfortable and planned to rectify that with a makeshift pillow she had been working on. Before she knew it, Garrus had fallen back to sleep. Camorra scooted the bowls to the side, returning to Garrus' pillow.

* * *

It was the loud sound of a huge bubble breaking the surface of the water near Beartham's joke of a boat that jerked him from his rest. He sat up quickly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. Amazingly, the debris had made some progress; the sea had been pushing him closer to his destination. Beartham could paddle some more if he wanted to but first he had to get a brief stretch in.

As his spindly arms stretched out, a short series of large bubbles broke the surface of the ocean near his piece of boat again. This time the turian flinched, whipping his head in the direction of the sound. His eyes captured the sight of disturbed water, not matching the same pattern as the little waves ridding the tide. Beartham's heart immediately started to thrum rapidly in his chest. His breath hitched as more bubbles maimed the surface—bubbles that were larger than his head!

Beartham's talons immediately sunk into the flesh of the debris, dragging his feet as much as he could, out of the water. His eyes ran the surface of the ocean, desperately seeking the cause of the disturbances. The turian's mind touched on an old human movie called Jaws: something about a large shark that terrorized anyone who dared venture into the ocean.

He had seen this movie when humanity and his kind had a truce. He thought the film was stupid at the time, but as the iconic music from the movie played in his head—he began to have second thoughts.

Beartham had never felt this vulnerable before, not even when he was a child. He felt one of his arms instinctively grabbing the wooden slab he'd been using as a paddle. Like that was going to do anything.

Grasping the paddle in both hands, he waited….

It must have been almost an hour that he sat there, bunched up in his tight little space, gripping his paddle turned bat. The ocean remained eerily still, save for the baby waves still playing chase with one another.

Beartham felt as if he'd been holding his breath for all that time. His body had been frozen in that tense state, inviting cramps around his neck, shoulders, and knees. With a finally study, Beartham exhaled deeply, relaxing his body as he did.

_Wew, that was close_. He placed the paddle down to gain his bearings. Following the weak current was his best bet. With a low but heavy sigh, the turian proceeded to stand. Before, he had been on his knees, paddling. Standing would help flex those aching, cramped muscles, and hopefully, speed his efforts—for his sake.

Beartham placed a weak hand that was dry from the sea water, on the edge of the debris in order to pull himself up on to his feet.

BOOSHK! Breaking the surface was a giant, gray fin that towered the debris, casting an ominous shadow over Beartham. His eyes locked with fin that was larger than he had ever seen—larger than he could've ever imagined. Beartham froze as stiff as a statue while the enormous fin passed by.

Suddenly the ocean didn't seem as dark when Beartham unintentionally caught sight of the silhouette that owned the fin. It was his new worst fear—not that Beartham had any fears before. It was the body of a shark, and not just any shark.

The greatest terror for any person or creature dwelling in the ocean: Growing anywhere from 40 to 50 feet, weighing as much as 100 tons, and with a bite force of 1.5 tons; whose teeth were no less than half a foot and was once believed to be extinct on the human home world… it was the megalodon!


End file.
